I love Maine. I love Maine so much I am giving Maine its own blog post even though we already discussed New England. I love the people, I love the scenery, I love the rugged edge of the wild, and I love the true feeling of seasons changing.
Maine resembles California in some ways. It shares a border with another country, and many signs are bilingual (although French and English here). It is big, with some populated areas and some scarce areas. The water- and I cannot stress this enough- is beautiful, and has seaweed, and the color is shades of green gems. There are amazing birds here, and they charm us on land and sea.
We have had lovely experiences talking to people. Reserved at first, the Mainers we’ve met open at the first sign of polite interest. We meet the seasonal interlopers here in only summer, and the year rounders with “seasonal irritation disorder” (the New York Times joke, not mine).
We came at the tail end of the summer season and have seen the exodus of fair weather sailors and tourists. We have enjoyed the last days of summer warmth and bluebird weather before areas button up and close for feet of snow.
We have evaded more lobster and crab pots in the water than I thought possible- and caught two in our propellor to our great annoyance. We have bought lobsters from local fisherman direct from their boats and seen mountains of pots stacked 12 feet high in front of peoples homes.
We bought a space heater, socks, parkas, electric hand warmers, pulled out long johns, ear warmers, scull caps and put two duvets on the bed. At night, it’s in the low 40’s on land. At sea in our port hull while we sleep, our body temperatures drop any time we get up to pee and we hurry back to the covers to breathe warmth on each other and spoon until the feeling returns.
We left Maine last week, after spending time in the gems of the Maine isles, we had one last goodbye to mainland Maine (Main Maine as Paul calls it). We experienced the beginning of the winter storms; waves, wind chill, fog, frozen fingers, and we knew our time there was ending. We sailed out of Rockland under the brightest full moon of the year, and watched the rocky shores disappear in the distance, as we began to make our way south with the vees of geese pointing the way.
with love from your migrating-
Lindsay and Paul
TIBURON MARINO 